Thank you

The cat is looking at me with black eyes telling me to get off his blog already.

But I wanted to thank every one of you for your comments and emails over the last couple of days. Everyone's support, warmth and advice has been very helpful. It's valuable to hear about others' experiences with hyperthyroidism, the treatments their cats have undergone, and especially the outcomes.

I should really compile some of your observations in a blog post titled Hyperthyroidism Treatment for Cats - so that people searching for support can find this info in one place. I may.

Estorbo has taken his first two pill doses with no problem. Although he takes pills readily from me (I've had a lot of practise with a certain vicious-when-pilled Efrican Blek-footed Ket, RIP), we decided to put each half pill in a treat, so that he can be pilled by others in case we are not here; also to make it less stressful. So far so good.

Now we watch for adverse reactions - intense face-scratching, vomiting, lethargy. Hopefully they do not appear.

In the meantime he has a question for you. We discovered this this morning on his foot.

"Whad the forgh happen' to my bag food (seee peecture aborf)???".

We think we know, but do you?

Second Opinion

This is probably more than anyone needs to know, but it helps me to write it down. The cat will soon be back.

I took Estorbo in his unattractive grey box for a second opinion to the emergency referral vet clinic on Warren Street (VERG - Veterinary Emergency and Referral Group), thankfully four blocks away - he's heavy. I did not mistrust the diagnosis from the Cobble Hill Animal Clinic, delivered by phone last night, but wanted another opinion.

We had a long wait, but it was worth it. I was deeply impressed by the manner of Dr. Inbal Lavotshkin,  the emergency vet on duty who examined him first before a specialist  talked to us. She had a very gentle bedside manner, performed a methodical exam and asked a lot of questions. And she shook me by the hand. Unusual in these parts. Then Dr Slade, the internal medicine specialist arrived and promptly sat down on the floor to ask the same questions, before examining the cat again. Then back to the floor for his rundown of the hyperthyroidism, which he felt confident in confirming, based on the physical exam, Estorbo's behaviour over the last weeks (years???) and the previous bloodwork results. He said it was not necessary in his opinion to draw blood again. The cat was very relieved, and so was I. $100 less on the bill. He explained all the treatment options, in detail. Pills, surgery, radiation, gel on ear.

By now, with the helpful feedback of so many of you, as well as my own reading, I know a lot more than I did yesterday, and was able to ask some informed questioned.

I realize that getting this news on the phone last night was not a good way to hear it - as I had no grasp of the condition itself and went into panic mode.

For now the kitty will be on daily medication for about a month to see how he responds. He gets half a pill each time, and they even cut up all the pills before bottling them. Wow. Then we will see about radiation. If it is not radiation it will be pills for the rest of his life. They can be custom-packed in edible gels to encourage him to eat them if we are not around to feed him (if we travel). There are rare side effects, and I will be watching for them.

A heart murmur was detected and they recommended that we return in about 3 weeks to see their cardiac specialist. Hyperthyroidism produces too much thyroid hormone, so everything - all organs - tend to work overtime. (It's not called "hyper" for nothing). It can affect the heart, or this may be an unrelated condition.

It may explain the panting we saw in the summer, when something frightened him and he ran, and arrived home panting like a dog.

What endeared me to these vets was their patient and gentle attitude, towards both human and animal. I find that rare. It was not patronizing, there was no overkill. Technicians in gloves did not materialize to pin the cat down (and scare the wits out of him). They took a lot of time. I was in there for well over an hour. And Estorbo was even given a kiss on his head! That is either brilliant PR on Dr Slade's part, or he just likes cats. I suspect the former, but he's forgiven.

The bill, for interest's sake? $202.00. They did not do bloodwork or urinalysis but they took his blood pressure (normal, surprisingly) and conducted a most thorough exam, talked to me forever and gave us one month's worth of medication. The Cobble Hill exam was very brief, but they did the blood test ($100) and tested the sample I brought ($40). Their bill was $218.

I am a fan. And the cat is asleep.

Thank you to each of you for the good wishes, and for your advice. I never realized how much the support might mean, but it has. I am not a team player. I tend to want to do things and manage things all on my own. But in this case it made a difference to know that others were rooting for us. Thank you very, very much, I have calmed down.The Frenchman never loses his calm. He is wiser, by far.

And Estorbo? He says the eep is mightier than the sword.

Message from the Woman

I know that there are some Estorbo readers and friends out there who care about the kitty a lot. So here's an update.

He has been drinking excessively and demanding (howling for, in the bath) water over the last few weeks. He pees a lot more. He seems hungrier. If that is possible.

He and I went to the vet on Wednesday. I took a urine sample, which he had given me obligingly, by peeing into the saucer I held under his tail (!). They were suitably impressed. At the vet's they drew blood. That was fun. A lot of screaming. He hates vets.

As I was walking up Lexington Avenue this evening, dragging my weekend suitcase, my phone rang. I was on my way to meet Ellen and Michael on the Upper East Side to drive out to their house in the Pennsylvanian woods for the weekend. Vince would join us tomorrow. Estorbo would be fed by the feeder for two nights. On the phone was Dr Young, a vet I had not met before, from the Cobble Hill Animal Clinic. The test results were in and she wanted to talk.

In short: the blood test showed acute hyperthyroidism. That caught me off guard. I had been expecting a kidney issue, based on his history (now 'cured' for years, with water added to his pellets).

She said that a normal level is 4 and that his is 19. Off the charts. I was walking fast, not wanting be late -  cabs and traffic streaming by in the dark, me listening to these bad things about my cat. She started by telling me that radiation was a good option. I was shocked. I comprehended dollar signs and death. Then she said that if that is not an option there is a daily medication, lifelong, that is not a cure, but manages the disease well.

I got to my friends, cried briefly, thought for two minutes and abruptly bailed out of our long-anticipated weekend. Ellen and and Michael are cat people whose own cats, Sisko and Seven,  travel out with them in their two baskets every weekend. I felt terrible deserting them with no notice but I knew that I had to get home and see the cat and Vince and start planning.

Tomorrow morning I will find another vet for a second opinion ( I trust ours, but it seems common sense for a diagnosis like this). And I will read more. The little I have read tonight makes radiation sound more desirable than I could have imagined, as it boasts a 95% cure. Medication (pill, twice a day, till the end of his life) is not a cure. But I have no idea what it costs, I can just imagine. Thousands. The pills cost $30 a month, and he takes pills well (from me). It may sound awful to be talking money, but we simply are not awash in it. We will find out, and we will think. Things could be much worse.

The good thing is that this is manageable...unless he has a really rare form. But that is premature.

Perhaps this explains a lot. Perhaps he has been afflicted for much of his life. This has always been an irascible cat. Short of temper. Bitey. A hungry, demanding, and recently vocal cat. It used to be just 'eep' but now it's a whole lot more. All symptoms of hyerthyroidism (Vince says these are symptoms of being a cat). But also a purring, very funny, endearing, eccentric and very loved cat. A cat who likes to sit upside down and have his claws clipped. I mean, that's just weird.

Last night he jumped onto the bed for the first time in at least 6 months, and washed, and purred, and then slept. He looks good, weighs just under 17lbs, his fur is sleek. That surprised this vet who was not the one who examined him. She said cats like this tend be emaciated.

We will take care of him, but we need to find out more, first. Your good thoughts are appreciated. I am a small wreck.

Estorbo, of course, may dine out on this. He might say that since he is dying he deserves better food. More roast chicken for example. And now that he has typhoid disease, full fat milk in the morning, not that low fat kaka sheet.

But all in his own time.

Bag frarm the bed, I mean ved

I yam bag frarm the ved. Dr. Park. She ees OK. Preedy. Sof'boice.

The teghneecian?

Dios mio.

I nearlee born their house down. I scream I yell, I growl, I swear eberywor' I know.

They TOOGH. MY. BLORD!!!!! Wha' kine' ob people do these???? They deen' eben as'!!!!

Then the Woomna say to the teghneecian when he breeng me bag: Are you OK?

She as' heem, nard me!! Me, I yab been screameen' por fibe meenutes baghstage, while they drain my libeblord. Deed he scream? No! Because he had glorbs!

They wor ber' eempress thad we brough' my pee sample. Steell warm. They wan' to know how. The Wooman say, Saucehair.

Como? they say.

Small saucehair, she say. You yos slide ondhair the cad when he maghe pee, he pee een saucehair. Ees easy.

Y I yam a pro. I weell do anytheen' y pee anywhere y eensi'e anytheen' eef eed aboids the terreeble catheter. No. Bad mammories.

Also. They toogh. my. temperature.

(ees terreeble)


I ged resolts manana or Friday. Ees keedneys, or diabetes, or thyroid...or...sormtheen' else. We know thad. We know thad.

We waid.

Y now? The geese are flyeen', an' seengeen' high aborf the house. Fourtime tonighd.  Ees coldehair. The Wooman weell go away soon. Always, she leab me. She say she hab to wride a boogh. Bod these time the Smoothman weell stay weeth me.

Eed weell be OK.
...

Yes?

Een the dargness

Eef eed ees there, I weell see eed. An' I weell cadge eed.

Tryeen' to remembhair

Man, I had so many goo' ideas por a blag pose'. I was talkeen' to the Smoothman y the Wooman las' nigh' while they wor eadeen' sorphair  (they gabe me sorm cheese arn a moshroom) an' I was makeen' them laugh. Now I cannard remembair whad I was sayeen'...Sormtheen' about Major Tarmcad.

"Thees ees Major Cad to groun' carntrol..."

...

Y then whad happen'...?

Sorntheen' abou, "Plan-ned orth ees blue an' I doan know where to poo..."

I had the whole theen', man. I made them speed oud their fondue, they wor laugheen' so morch.

Now eed's garn. Am I geedeen' ole'?

Arn the roop afthair the storm

I yam sorry! Ees berberhar'. The Wooman. She ees always tybetybetybe ad thees carmpudehair. No chance por Estorbo to do whad a cad's garda do, you know? Lighe orpdade my forgheen' BLARG! I start my blarg fors' ,you know. She gard the idea frarm me. 

Irene, she came, she wen', was boreen', lighe beeg storm bod no thondhair. I yam nard afrai' frarm thondhair. Was ween', morch ween', y thad made me loogh orp ad the skylighds an' say, Whadtheforghe? a few time'...

Now I yam bag arn the roop, y I ade my emergencia rations already, y I use my shelter leedhair, y now my caddle hab all lefd the roop. P. P...roopffffffffffffffffffffffffff. Ees har'. (The Smooth man has eessues weeth my prononciation.) So, I yam no longhair a rooptarp gaucho. Where hab all my caddle garn? The Wooman say they blow away.

Bod: I deed cadge a cicada. Myeeee cicada! Green, the bes' flabor. I ade eed. Was muy delicioso! Que rico...the Wooman made a mobie ob the meal bod she say I cannard pose' eed because PEDA weell be angry. Who ees he? Eed was myeeee cicada, nard PEDA's cicada.

So, afthair patrolleen' the roop een bain por days por my larst y meesseen' caddle I deed fine oud Worn New Theen': Ees a POOSSY leebeen' arn the order rooptarp! She ees blag! Name ob Coco...Serious. Bod I cannard beeseet, ees no connection between roops. The yoomans ob Coco wabe ad os worn day, an' say to the Wooman, How are las plantas afthair the horricane? The Wooman scream bag, FINE! Then they wabe ad me, and they peeck orp their poossy frarm their deg and hole' hor een the air an' I say, Madre de dios, a blag, preedy poossy, and they scream, Thees ees Coco! Then they yell, Whad ees your keedy's name? Y the Woomam  scream:  ESTOOORBO!

...

...

Whad? they yell.

Nebbermine, says the Wooman, weeth hor han's.

She tole' me she weell leab a node ondhair their door y tell them to fine' me here. 

Then they weell nebber led their poossy speaghe to me again. I know. She weel deescreeminade agains' me.

So depresseen'...